


Calf 27

by Ghostmedic



Series: A New Life in The West [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Country & Western, Gen, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23633848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostmedic/pseuds/Ghostmedic
Summary: A story from my original work A New Life in the West. James Wright is a old man in 1930s America. His life has seen the world change like never before. Here James and his trusted horse Amural are tagging calves in some unknown pasture, but he is having a little more trouble than he bargained for.
Series: A New Life in The West [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701364





	Calf 27

The midday sun stood proud in the sky, filling the rolling plains in front of me with a bright light. Yet, somehow, I was still freezing. The wind seemed to be possessed with some spirit I may have wronged in the last life. Thinking back on my 60 some years, hell it may have been a spirit I wronged. My life has been a journey filled with many a hill and ravine. Amural lowered his head to grab some fresh spring grass. I have had many companions in my life, and he has certainly been one of the best. In all my years I have never met a better listener. I sat high in the saddle and looked onward to the horizon. Now where the hell is that blasted calf? 

Dear old mom just stood next to me, seemingly oblivious. Smart ol cow knew that I would come looking for it. It can’t be far from its mother. I looked down at her face and muttered “Now where did you hide your baby”?

Just then the mom, number 250, looked to the west and let out a long drawn out moo. Maybe the calf is that way. With a tap of my left heel Amural rotated to face the west, and with a click of the tongue he slowly moved forward. Damn calf is probably hiding behind one of these sagebrush. Why are they so many of the damn things? I don’t think anything eats them. What purpose could they possibly serve? I looked back and it seemed that 250 was content to stay where she was. Maybe that moo was a trick?

After 30 minutes of uneventful searching I returned to 250. If a cow could look smug; this one certainly did. I looked her dead in the eye and said “do we have to do this every damn year? You’re a good mom, but I need to tag the calf. Otherwise all sorts of things could happen” My voice feel upon deaf ears. 

Her only reaction was a tongue digging into one of her nostrils. I leaned forward and whispered in Amural ear “You tell her Amural, maybe she will listen to you”.

I just waited for Amural to do his work, but after several moments of nothing but tail flicking; I just grunted and said, “both of you are useless”. Just then I heard a calf scream off in the distance. All three of us turned our heads towards the direction. Amural needed very little guidance and with a tap of the boots he speed towards the sounds of distress.

At a full gallop we quickly found the source and it was the calf running around and trying to kick in every direction at once. Hot on its heels was a very large and very frightening coyote. With my right hand I reached behind me and pulled out my Henry rifle and pushed the lever forward and back. My legs squeezed at Amurals sides and my left hand pulled back on the reigns. My body was trying to move in 20 directions at once, but I stayed in the saddle. I slung the barrel over my left forearm and waited for my shot. I wasn’t what I used to be; I couldn’t get off a shot in time. By the time Amural slowed down to a reasonable speed the coyote had the calf by the neck. I exhaled and squeezed the trigger. BANG. The world seemed to pause. Nothing moved and nothing made a sound.

We moved closer to the calf. I dismounted Amural and just then 250 came upon the scene like a hurricane. Amural was trained well and did his job, by keeping himself between me and the cow they entered a battle of speed and agility. They started kicking up quite the dust storm. Like I said before, one of the best companions I’ve ever had. Confident that Amural would get the job done. I placed one knee on the ground and pulled out my knife to pry the predator’s jaws loose. They loosened their grip and I slowly dragged the coyote away. The calf eyes were those of terror. Its breathing was erratic and its muscles twitchy. Yet the calf stayed laying on the ground. There wasn’t that much blood and the cuts didn’t seem deep, but there were quite a few. As much as I wanted to put the calf on Amural and ride to the ranch house I knew that there was very little we could do for the young bull. After retrieving some fly spray from Amural’s saddle I gave him a good coating. Then I grabbed a tag out of my pocket and placed one in his ear. Well I wish you the best of luck 27. I leave you to the tender care of your mom. Who knew if the calf would live or die? I hope to see you at the branding in a couple months. Careful to avoid the still furious mother I swung my leg over Amural and sat back into the saddle. I pulled out my notebook and checked off number 250. Only 15 more cows to go.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story. I am currently writing the tale of James Wright as a young man. I plan on having his first horse named Amural, and I would like to thank a dear friend to allow me to use his characters name. I am planning on trying to add some significance to the numbers in James Wrights younger life, but I am unsure how. Thank you for reading. Hopefully this is just one of the many stories to come about James Wright.


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